rockin' robin
by Cerulean Musings
Summary: Sweet Pea hates that a Northsider has something over him. He'll take any opportunity that arises to put himself back on level ground, especially when it involves cheesy line-dancing.


_**rockin' robin**_

Being forced into spending an evening with a Northsider had to be his own special brand of Hell, Sweet Pea decided. Especially having to be tutored in math by said Northsider. And double especially because she wasn't like the other Northsiders which kept him on edge. He knew how the others acted, how they worked, and he reacted accordingly. He had all the answers and he had the other Northsiders figured out. But he couldn't figure out Wynn Tate and that _pissed_ him off.

She didn't appear eager at the news that their teacher wanted her to tutor him in Algebra and, yet, she didn't appear displeased either. There were no eye rolls, no curled lips of disdain, no glares, no scoffs. Nothing. He couldn't work with nothing. Couldn't prepare himself with nothing. Those reactions, though, came from him and he wasn't ashamed for it. But she'd merely accepted it with a shrug and a simple "Meet me at Pop's after school."

His blew a frustrated breath out the corner of his mouth as he tapped the tip of his pen against his notebook. He added ink dots to the page that was already covered in scratches and scribbles; a monument to the past half hour of his attempts to work out the stupid Algebra problems assigned to them. Why did they have to thrown in unknowns? He hated unknowns. He couldn't work with unknowns.

"This is fucking ridiculous," Sweet Pea uttered, staring down at the math problems. "When am I going to need to know this?"

"When we get tested on it," Wynn replied so dryly he almost saw the accompanying word _dumbass_ floating in the air.

His sneered. "Cute."

Wynn smirked. "I know I am, thanks for noticing, but that's not going to get you out of this." Sweet Pea scoffed at the notion she presented and wrote out the three variable math problem again. His lips pressed into a line and stared hard at the equation, hoping hard that the numbers and letters on the page would stay still or actually make sense for once. "C'mon, String Bean, you got this. See, look, you already did this part of the problem well. Now just do it again here."

His lip curled at the nickname she bestowed upon him. "Why don't you actually be useful and do this yourself?"

Wynn laughed and rose from where she had been kneeling by the table. Brushing the hem of her work apron she continued, "I'm not doing your homework for you."

"Surprise, surprise, I get stuck with a brown noser."

"What the hell are you going to learn from me doing the work for you?"

"That you have a price."

A smirk curled in the corners of Wynn's mouth which made him squint. "Sweetie Pie, you can't afford me."

"It's _Sweet Pea._ "

Her eyes dropped down and he stiffened beneath her scrutinizing gaze before she glanced back at his face. "No, I'd say it's more Snow Pea." She held her finger and thumb close to each other to indicate size. He held his middle finger in her direction and she laughed, tucking a strand of her curly dark hair behind her ear. "Come on, you got this." Placing her hands on the table, she leaned forward and pointed at the book. "What can you do with these two variables?"

Sweet Pea turned his attention back to where she was pointing at the math problem and he stared hard at it. _C'mon. Why can't you get this?_ he berated himself as the seconds ticked by and an answer didn't make itself known. His mind, blank, screamed his failure back at him in the translation of white noise. Wynn's sigh cut through; a slight reprieve to his personal torture.

"Try not to look at the whole problem."

"What _else_ am I supposed to _look_ at?" He glanced up as he spoke, having forgotten that she wasn't kneeling like she had been before so, now, his gaze was a little further south of her face than he had intended. He cleaned his throat and shifted his gaze over to the nametag pinned to her uniform so he could at least use that as an excuse.

Wynn's snapping fingers brought his attention back up and he tensed and waited but she said a quick—and maybe amused?—"eyes up here, Peapod" and then circled two of the math problems with her finger. "I _mean_ , try looking at it piece by piece. You're psyching yourself out. You're not trying to solve it all at once, you're trying to solve one variable. Once you get one, the rest—ah, _shit._ "

Sweet Pea's eyebrows furrowed as Wynn blew out a breath and pushed away from the table. He inclined his head, looking past her at the other servers and waitresses that had seemed to amass out of nowhere and skip to the front of the diner, clapping along to be the beat of the song that had started over the jukebox.

His hand went into his pocket, fingers wrapping around the cool handle of his trusty pocket knife. His muscles tensed, his shoulders lifting to his ears, and his eyes darted around as he quickly mapped out his escape route. _I can get over the booths in a few seconds and reach the door, back door is covered by old man Pop, four people in the way. You can take them. Just don't stop moving._

He shifted his feet, readying himself to strike, when Wynn was pulled into the throngs of other serves and… _what?_ He blinked, dumbfounded, as they all started to dance when the verse of _Rockin' Robin_ came in. A cheesy, fifties inspired, line dance. In _unison._

The bright smiles, synchronized movements, and laughter grabbed the attention of everyone in the diner. Cell phones and ipads were whipped out and all conversation ceased as the dance went on, some of the diners even clapping in unison. Sweet Pea could only sit there and blink to be sure he was actually seeing what he was seeing and wasn't actually having some sort of trippy dream. Though he noticed the entire time that Wynn didn't look in his direction and by the time the song ended and she ran out of tables to check on, she begrudgingly made a beeline for his table and all sense of fight in him had left but the adrenaline still rushed through his body.

What kind of cotton candy, pastel, bubblegum fresh hell is this?

She must've been able to read his mind; she crossed her arms and grumbled, "Don't say a word."

He loosened his grip on his knife and slowly pulled his hand out of his pocket amidst the dying applause from the other patrons (habits died hard). He twisted his mouth to the side and leaned back against the cushy seat of the candy cane colored booth. "You can just do it all, can't you Twinkle Toes?"

Wynn's cheeks flushed and she glared at him. "Oh, shut it. We'll see how that holds up if I can get you an A on the next test."

His body finally relaxing, Sweet Pea allowed a smug smile to form on his face. He draped an arm against the back of the booth and drummed his ring covered fingers against the material. "If I get an A will you dance for me?"

He held the smile as her face went through a plethora of expressions until settling on something sardonic. "Sure, Sweet Pea. If you can somehow get an A, I'll dance for you." The door above the bell jingled as more patrons came in and Wynn watched them take a seat in an empty booth. She backed towards the bar top and picked up a couple of menus. She tucked them beneath her arm and said with a bit of finality, "But I wouldn't hold my breath about it."

"What kind of tutor are you?"

"A realistic one. The only way this'll happen is if it's in your dreams."

And with the challenge set, she went off to greet her table, a ready smile sliding into place. Grunting, Sweet Pea picked up his abandoned pen once more. At least now he had incentive. This time, the numbers and letters stayed still.

A few weeks later when Sweet Pea sauntered into Pop's with Fangs and Toni flanking his sides, he spotted Wynn leaning over a table, pointing to something on the menu and smiling a kid who was bouncing in his seat. A large tray filled with food balanced on her free palm.

"Hey girl, got room for three more?" Toni asked.

Wynn looked up and smiled, approaching the trio. "Guess I can squeeze y'in," she said with a teasing smile. "What's the occasion?"

"Seems that Sweet Pea here aced his math test," Fangs said, clapping Sweet Pea on the shoulder.

A swell of satisfaction blossomed in his chest when he saw the look of surprise pass through Wynn's face and then quickly switch to one of absolute horror.

"No he didn't," she said, almost begging. It made the moment that much sweeter as he pulled his test out of his pocket, unfurled it, and held it up in front of her face to see the large red A marked on top in pen. "For fuck's sake," she whispered.

"What's the problem? You tutored him. The whole point's to get a good grade," Toni pointed out, eyebrows crinkling.

"Yeah, but now I—"

"Owe me a dance," Sweet Pea finished for her, returning his test to his pocket. Yes, the late night studying was worth it for the look on her face alone. He could live off it for days.

Toni shook her head, laughing a little. "Wait, what?"

"Hope you have your dancing shoes on, Twinkle Toes." And, to add sugar on top of the already sweet, sweet moment he made a show of walking to the jukebox, pushing his quarter in, and selecting the song. As the intro to _Rockin' Robin_ started up and the other servers and waiters stopped what they were doing to get into formation, Sweet Pea leaned against the jukebox and waited with an expecting smile. Wynn's glare could have set him up in flames.

"They gave you the wrong name," Wynn stated as she begrudgingly put the tray down, "they shouldn't call you Sweet Pea, they should call you Satan!"

Hey, if he was going to reside in Hell, he may as well get comfortable.

* * *

 _ **a/n**_ \- let me know what you think! this features my OC, Wynn Tate, granddaughter of Pop Tate. This can also be found on my tumblr, ceruleanmusings.


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